


A More Wicked Day

by Pyper212



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e03 The Wicked Day, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyper212/pseuds/Pyper212
Summary: Alternate ending to The Wicked Day: "Merlin watched his friend round the bed with hate in his eyes and he could not bring himself to cast a spell to stop him. Instead he turned to flee out of the open door...Merlin felt Arthur punch him sharply in the back. Merlin’s breath was forced from his lungs by the impact. He stumbled and would have fallen except his robe was stuck on something. He looked down to see four inches of crimson slicked sword sticking from his chest"
Relationships: Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 354





	1. The Healing of Uther

Upon entering Uther’s chambers, Merlin-as-Dragoon sobered. He looked on the still form of the king and lost the giddy smirk he had worn after making Arthur carry him piggy back through the citadel. Uther looked peaceful in his sleep. Merlin marveled at the serenity the man’s face could display given the hundreds of lives he had ruined.

Reminding himself that he did this for Arthur and the great destiny that awaited him, Merlin approached the side of the bed. He pulled a bottle from within the folds of his robes and dropped a little of its contents into Uther’s mouth. Then he lit the end of the bundle of herbs he had brought with him and began to wave them in the air before a word from Arthur halted him.

“Wait”

Merlin looked questioningly into Arthur’s eyes, the bundle of herbs still poised in the air. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“My father taught me to never trust magic and now I’m using it to save him.” Uncertainty warred over Arthur’s face as he gazed down upon the still form of his father.

“Your own life has been saved using magic more times than you can possibly imagine,” Merlin replied.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Arthur turned to look at the old man.

“I merely mean to say that magic is all around you. It is woven into the very fabric of the world,” Merlin covered his statement smoothly.

“How can I be sure it’s the right thing to do?” Arthur looks up hesitantly. His eyes filled with worry.

“I know you have suffered because of magic,” Merlin said in a kind voice. “As many have. But not all magic and not all sorcerers are the same. I wish only to show you that magic can be used for good. I hope one day you will see me in a different light.” Arthur looked down at his father. His mind made up, he stepped back

Merlin intoned the words of a spell until his voice faded. His eyes turned a soft gold as he spoke the last whispered word. He waited, his breath held to see if the spell had worked. For a long, soul-crushing moment he believed it had failed.

Then Uther’s eyes opened abruptly and he gasped deeply.

“Father?” Arthur asked, hopeful. Uther turned to look at him and smiled wanly.

“Arthur,” he breathed with a note of love and pride Arthur had rarely heard from his father. Arthur let out a short, gasping laugh. Merlin smiled to see them happy again.

Then Uther groaned. His breath began to wheeze.

“What’s happening?” Arthur snapped at the old sorcerer, still gripping his father’s arm.

“I don’t know,” Merlin replied, panicked. He looked down at Uther’s face as the king struggled for breath. Then Uther let out a last gasp of air, dying.

Arthur’s eyes welled, unable to hold back the tears as he stared into the unseeing eyes of his father. Merlin stood shocked for a second. His face spasmed in sorrow and confusion. He placed his fingers to the king’s throat. When he felt nothing he croaked, “he’s dead!”

“No. He can’t be.” Arthur stated. He shook Uther’s arm desperately. “Father? Father!” He shouted louder but the king made no reply.

“What have you done?” Arthur jumped to his feet, rounding on the old man.

“This was not supposed to happen,” Merlin said softly, confusion and despair taking over his voice.

“You gave me your word. You – You have killed him.” Arthur shouted. “You killed him!”

“No,” Merlin murmured.

“You’ll die for what you’ve done!” Arthur pulled his sword from his leather belt and turned to charge after the old man.

Merlin watched his friend round the bed with hate in his eyes and he could not bring himself to cast a spell to stop him. Instead he turned to flee out of the open door. Of course, the wizened old form he had taken also came with drawbacks like creaky, twisted knees and a crooked back. He was not as swift as he was used to. Still he made it through the door before Arthur caught up to him. All those training sessions had kept the young prince in top shape and he was on him in three bounding steps.

Merlin felt Arthur punch him sharply in the back. Merlin’s breath was forced from his lungs by the impact. He stumbled and would have fallen except his robe was stuck on something.

He looked down to see four inches of crimson slicked sword sticking from his chest. Ah, he thought bemusedly, that’s what I’m caught on. He heard a grunt from Arthur as the prince wrenched the blade from Merlin’s ribs. Shock kept Merlin from feeling the pain but the exit of the sword was an unpleasant experience. A moan escaped his lips. He was on his knees watching blood stream onto the door’s threshold. Time must have slowed because he found time to think, rather offhandedly, that it would be a pain to scrub the floor clean later. Then he heard Arthur suck in a breath and shift his feet for another blow.

Merlin waved a hand behind him haphazardly, shouting “Sweofut!” He was rewarded by the sound of chain mail crumpling to the stone ground.

With a pained grunt, he pulled himself to his feet. Though Arthur had dismissed the guards, Merlin knew they were not far. He needed to leave before the shouting drew their attention. Quickly, or as quickly as the old form would allow, Merlin shuffled out of the room and around the corner. He heard the guards stamping feet go past him and into Uther’s chambers. It would not be long before they determined that the blood trail starting at the door would lead them to a crucial suspect. Merlin needed to be gone before that and he needed to clean his blood after him.

He swigged the potion Gaius had given him to resume his normal age and pulled the red robes from around him. He wrapped these around his ribs and pressed them into his wound on his chest. Then he looked around him and his eyes blinked a quick gold. The blood speckles disappeared.

The journey back to Gaius’s chambers was agonizing. The pain had set in, throbbing in waves with each breath he pulled into his rasping lungs. His progress was slow as every few steps he needed to flash his gaze about to clean up any blood he could see. He was alarmed to notice it was coming faster with each flight of stairs he climbed, spilling out from the sodden robe and coating his hands. His breath wheezed in his chest and he didn’t think the increasing tightness he felt was just from climbing the stairs. A few steps from Gaius’s door, he stumbled. His hands slapped onto the stones, leaving bloody handprints. He stared at them a beat, unable to remember how to clear them. Instead, he attempted to brush them away with his elbow, nearly fell on his face, and gave up. He crawled the last few feet to Gaius’s chambers, pushing the door open weakly, and tumbling inside.

“Merlin!” Gaius exclaimed, hurrying to Merlin’s side. He grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet. “What happened?” Together they hobbled over to the patient’s cot and Merlin fell onto it. The robe fell away from Merlin’s chest, revealing a red stain extending down his torso and soaking into the top of his trousers. “You’ve been stabbed!” Gaius yelled, pushing the robe back onto the wound. He pulled Merlin’s hands back to the wound and pressed them down, wordlessly instructing him to keep pressure while he scrambled for his medicine bag.

“The spell…” Merlin croaked feebly. “The spell it worked. I…I know it worked! But he died anyways. I don’t know what - what happened!” Merlin sobbed. “I killed him! Now Arthur will never” he gasped. “trust mag-“ Then he couldn’t speak any longer as blood sprayed from his mouth. He gasped desperately, trying to draw in air around the blood. “I can’t…” He wheezed without sound. “I can’t… breathe! Gaius!” His hands scrabbled uselessly at his chest, his feet kicking at the cot in an effort to force air into his lungs. Lungs that were so full of fluid, nothing else could get in. His eyes spun wildly across the room, searching for Gaius. His face turned red and the tendons showed starkly against his neck as he tried to draw in breath and failed.

“Easy, easy, my boy,” Gaius said with calm he did not feel. “Sit back. Try to stop thrashing. That’s it, easy, easy now”

Merlin tried desperately to listen but it was impossible as his brain screamed for air. Then a warmth filled his chest as, distantly, he heard Gaius chanting words he could not, at first, make out. Magic. Gaius was performing magic to save him.

After what seemed like an hour, the weight on Merlin’s chest eased. He found that he could draw in air and he did so with shaky fierceness. Once he had taken a few breaths, he fell back into the cot, exhausted. His entire body trembled with adrenaline, fear, and shock. A quick sob burst from his lips.

“Breathe, Merlin. Just breathe,” Gaius soothed. He brushed his hand through Merlin’s black hair tenderly. “I’ve got you. You’ll be okay now”

Merlin nodded sharply and closed his eyes, tears squeezing from the corners to carve tracks down his cheeks.

“The spell helped draw the blood from your lungs but you’re not out of the deep end yet, my boy. You’ve lost a lot of blood and I need to get you stitched up. I’m going to give you a tonic to help you relax and to ease your pain. Is that alright?”

Merlin opened his eyes to look at Gaius, hoping to gauge how bad off he really was. The old sorcerer looked back at him, placid as ever, showing no concern or worry in his eyes. Merlin nodded tiredly. Now that he could breathe and the adrenaline was coming out of his system, he felt a deep thrumming of pain through his chest. He knew it would soon be quite unbearable.

Gaius pressed the glass vial to his mouth and Merlin drank it gratefully. Almost immediately, a warmth spread through his body, slowly weighing him down and bringing his consciousness with it.


	2. The Betrayal

Arthur awoke on the ground with a splitting headache. It took him a moment to remember why he was on the floor and why guards were milling around like hens pecking at grain.

“Father!” he gasped and shot to his feet. Then he grabbed at the bedpost as a shot of dizzy blindness sped through his brain. “Ahhh!” he groaned, sagging against the bed frame.

“Take it slowly, sire,” one of the guards implored. “You took a crack to the head when that sorcerer threw you down.”

Arthur looked around wildly. “Where is he? Where did he go?”

“We’ll find him sire. He’s an old man and he was injured, right?” Arthur nodded. “He can’t go far, sire,” the guard continued.

“He might be an old man,” Arthur growled, “but he is a dangerous sorcerer. I want him found!”

The guard scurried out of the chamber to spread the word. Then Arthur found himself alone in the room with his father. With his father’s _body_ , he reminded himself. He sighed shakily, swallowing the sob he could feel welling within his chest as he gazed at the still form of his dead father. He gritted his teeth and looked away. Too much needed to be done for him to break down now.

The council would need to be informed. Arrangements would need to be made for burial and official coronation proceedings would need to be started. Suddenly, the weight of royalty felt overwhelming. Though he appeared calm, informing the guards he found in the hallway that he intended to find Gaius and that someone would need to rouse and assemble the council within the throne room as soon as possible, Arthur’s inner voice shouted at him to flee. Jump on a horse and run from the castle. He needed a steadying hand and he knew that the stalwart physician would do the trick. (He also knew that the physician’s assistant would help put the world to right, but he would never admit that, not even to himself.)

Arthur made his way swiftly to the physician’s chambers, climbing the stairs two at a time. He only met one serving girl who was stopped just outside of Gaius door and was staring down at something. Making his way to her, Arthur dropped his eyes to see what had caught the girl’s gaze. Blood. There were bloody handprints smeared along the landing. A trail of blood led to the ruby stained door knob. His breath quickened and he turned to the serving girl. Her eyes were wide and her hands clutched the handles of her tray with a white-knuckled grip.

“Go fetch the guard. Then see if you can get someone to clean this up,” he whispered to her. She bobbed a tiny curtsy and set her tray off to the side, then hurried off. He was pleased that she had inferred the need for quiet from his whispered words. Turning back to the door, Arthur reached for the hilt of his sword. It wasn’t there. In his rush, he had left it on the floor of his father’s chambers. He sucked in a breath.

He knew Gaius had known the sorcerer. Maybe they had been friendly once and now, gravely wounded, the old man had sought solace from his old friend, Gaius. If the sorcerer who killed his father was behind this door, he didn’t want to have to wait for the guard. But if he was there, Arthur probably should wait for someone to back him up. Though, he thought, what would the guards do to help against a magic user? Steeling himself, Arthur grasped the handle and turned it swiftly.

The scene before him was not at all what he had expected. The blood trail continued along the length of the chamber and stopped to join a much larger pool under the patient’s cot. Next to the cot, Gaius paused, a roll of bandaging held aloft, and turned to the door in surprise. Most astonishing was the person propped up in the cot, his skin ashen, eyes closed, blood coating almost all of him except the line of clean white cloth around his midsection. Arthur stopped in midstride and stared at Merlin.

“Wha-“ he stammered, unable to form a complete word of query.

“Sire?” Gaius asked calmly. “Is everything all right?” He continued to wrap the cloth around Merlin’s torso.

“Yes, I mean no.” Arthur was still on the back-foot and scrambled to ask the questions milling around in his head. “What happened to Merlin?” He finally managed.

“An accident. I’m afraid the potion he was helping me mix became volatile and shattered the pot it was in. Merlin took a rather sizable shard to his chest. Thankfully, it looks far worse than it is.” Gaius completed the wrap and neatly tucked the end into the line of bandages. He looked back up at Arthur as he gently lowered Merlin to the cot. “Is there something I can help you with, sire?”

“Yes…,” now that he was here, Arthur struggled to say the words. “Gaius, my father…he’s…”

Gaius’s face fell into a concerned frown. “Oh, Arthur. I’m so sorry.” He hastened to Arthur’s side, bumping into the cot on his way around. He gripped Arthur’s arm kindly. “Has he succumbed to his wound?”

Arthur nodded sharply, a rogue tear falling from his eye with the movement. Gaius patted his arm and moved to pull him from the room. “Let me help make arrangements, sire” he began. Just then, Merlin awoke with a violent start.

“Arthur!” he yelled, sitting up in one unsteady movement. His eyes were wide, fearful and pained. Arthur snapped his gaze to Merlin’s and moved to settle him back on the cot. Then he stopped. Something about Merlin’s expression halted him in his tracks. The old sorcerer had always seemed so familiar. Merlin’s eyes now were the same blue orbs of sadness the old man had had just as he watched Uther pass away. Arthur’s eyes dropped to the small red circle forming on the right side of Merlin’s chest. It was the same spot Arthur had stabbed through red robes just moments before.

“No,” Arthur breathed and grabbed at Merlin’s shoulders to twist him around. Merlin groaned in pain, cowering away from him. It didn’t matter, Arthur could see the blood seeping through the back of the bandages as well. And, there, on the ground on the other side of the cot, were the blood-soaked red robes the sorcerer had worn to the chamber where he took his father’s life.

Arthur felt as if all the blood had fallen from his face and pooled in his feet. “No,” he whispered. Then louder: “No! It can’t be you!”

Merlin put his hands up in a placating movement.

“Arthur,” he started, but his face showed guilt and sorrow, not confusion. Arthur snapped. He gripped Merlin’s shoulder savagely, a growl of purest grief struggling from his throat.

“I trusted you!” He screamed. Arthur didn’t remember punching Merlin but a large red mark appeared on the latter’s cheek. Merlin’s eyes were dazed with pain and a trickle of blood appeared at the edge of his lip.

“Arthur,” he gasped. “I didn’t mean – “ Another hit from Arthur stopped his sentence, throwing his head back and breaking his nose with a spray of blood. Arthur felt gnarled hands grab at his arms as Gaius tried to pull him from Merlin but Arthur shook him off easily.

“I trusted you!” He screamed again, raining blows down on Merlin’s unresisting form. “You tricked me this whole time?” A distant part of himself registered horror at what his fists were doing to his servant but the anger, hurt, and grief overrode this part of his conscience.

“Arthur!” Gaius yelled from behind him, louder now and panicked. “Please, stop! You’ll kill him!” Gaius’s hands scrabbled to hold back Arthur’s fists.

Heedless of Gaius’s grip on his biceps, Arthur grabbed Merlin by his upper arms and threw him from the cot. Books, vials and jars scattered to the floor, shattering their contents as Merlin tumbled to the ground. He twisted onto his back with a cry of pain and used his feet to push away from Arthur. Tears welled continuously from his eyes, washing streaks of paleness through the blood on his cheeks. His eyes were already starting to swell, making him squint painfully up at Arthur.

“Please,” he rasped. “Please let me explain.” Arthur didn’t know why, but this quiet plea cut through his anger. Merlin, his stupid, selfless servant didn’t beg for his life. No, he begged to explain. Arthur stopped his onslaught.

“Guards!” Arthur yelled, his voice choked with emotion. He turned back through the door and found two guardsmen making their way up to the physician’s chamber. “Take them both to the dungeon.” He pointed back to the bloody mess of limbs that was Merlin with Gaius hovering over him, dabbing ineffectually at blood pouring from Merlin’s nose. Arthur ignored the silent plea Merlin shot through his swollen, red-rimmed eyes. He turned to head back to his duties. His kingdom needed him now. His back was iron straight and his hands shook with the how hard he squeezed them into fists. It felt like hours had passed since he had called the meeting, not mere minutes. He made his way slowly to his own chambers. By now, the word had spread from guard to guard and servant to servant so very few people bothered him on his way. Once he got to the refuge of his own room, he closed the door softly and stood staring at the wood grain on the backside for several minutes, breathing deeply and trying to gain control over his quaking limbs.

Images of his father, of Merlin’s shattered face, and of the gold eyes of the old man flashed through his memory. He pushed them out of his mind as best as he could and set about getting dressed. He found the ewer of water and realized with a pang that Merlin had set it out for him. A memory of blood spewing from Merlin’s aquiline nose came to mind and he thrust it aside. He dipped his sore and bloodied hands into the water and scrubbed at them. It took a long, long time to get them clean.


	3. The Dungeon

Merlin was surprised to remain mostly awake while the two guards collected him from the floor. His sense of time was severely flawed however. He vividly recalled the process of the guards picking him up. That was an experience of such agony he doubted he would ever forget it. Abstractedly, he realized that they were honestly trying not to inflict too much pain. Merlin was on friendly terms with most of the guards, having been in and around the training grounds just about every day since his arrival in Camelot. But there was little they could do to make the move comfortable for Merlin’s tortured body.

He blinked and suddenly he was descending the stairs into the dungeons. He heard his name said questioningly but he didn’t have the strength to turn his head to see who had spoken.

Blinking again, he was on the floor of a dungeon cell. Someone was wiping a cold rag across his face. He hoped it was Gaius and then thought better of it. He did not want Gaius to be imprisoned with him.

He woke awhile later with a great weight on his chest. Weakly, he tried to push it off with his hands but found nothing there. His breath was wheezing again and he opened his eyes with dread.

“Gaius!” he gasped, forgetting that he did not want his mentor there with him. He was there anyway. Kneeling at Merlin’s side, Gaius gripped his hand tenderly.

“Breathe, Merlin. Breathe!” Now Gaius’s face was pinched with worry. In the cell, with guards all around, Gaius could not recreate the cure he had used before to help Merlin’s lungs clear.

Merlin’s hand clung to Gaius tightly. He sucked in as many short, choppy breaths of air as he could manage and still felt starved of oxygen.

“Breath all the way out, Merlin. You’ll hyperventilate. Get the breath all the way out so you have room for new air”. Merlin tried to follow his instructions but found less and less space to pull new breaths in. “Merlin, I think you have blood or air in your chest. It’s pushing against your lungs so you can’t breathe. I need to relieve the pressure.”

Merlin looked at him in fear, knowing this meant that Gaius would need to cut into his chest. How could he do that effectively in a dungeon? He nodded anyways. What choice did they have? He would die otherwise.

Miraculously, Gaius pulled his physician’s bag from behind him, searching through the contents for what he needed. In between his frenzied breathing, Merlin marveled that the guards had allowed him to bring the bag along. He supposed it paid to be kind to even the lowliest guards. He never realized it would pay him back in such a way however.

“Merlin, I’m going to cut through the stitches I set in your back. That way I don’t have to cut you, ok? I need you to shift onto your side.”

Chest burning, Merlin heaved himself onto his side with Gaius helping to ease him into position. Breathing was even harder in this position and Merlin began to feel extremely lightheaded. “Hurry,” he breathed to Gaius. “Hurry…”

He heard rather than felt Gaius slice through his stitches. The pain from lack of air had become all consuming. Then he felt something sharp dig into the aching wound in his back. A hissing sound, followed by warmth spread across his back and suddenly he had room in his lungs. He inhaled gratefully.

“Merlin,” Gaius whispered. “This has given you a brief respite but you need more to help you heal. I can’t keep the air from escaping into your chest.” Merlin heard the sucking sound that accompanied each breath and knew Gaius was right.

“Can you do the spell?” Merlin asked Gaius quietly.

“Yes, but there are three guards within feet of our cell.”

“Glad they’re helping me,” Merlin observed wryly.

“There’s a set of shackles on the far wall. Do you think you can toss them and create a diversion?”

Merlin nodded weakly. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was rewarded with a loud rattle echoing through the hallway.

“What was that?” One of the guards muttered.

Gaius wasted no time. He whispered the words to a spell while the guards had their heads turned away. He watched with satisfaction as the blood stopped hissing from Merlin’s back. The wound was still there but he had managed to close the internal damage so that Merlin’s breathing was less hampered.

Despite these efforts, Merlin’s breathing still wheezed in his lungs. There was only so much his magic could do given the trauma Merlin’s lungs had gone through. It would likely take days for them to clear fully.

The boy was now blessedly unconscious and Gaius watched him protectively. There was little he could do for the swelling which was taking over his ward’s pale face. He had used some of the water the guards had given him to wash the blood off of Merlin’s cheeks and throat so he appeared less ghastly. But Merlin’s eyes had already sunk into pools of bruised flesh. His nose veered off into an awkward angle that made Gaius knees quell with pain for his ward. He would need to set the nose before the swelling became too drastic. That was pain he did not wish to give the boy who had survived so much trauma within a few hours’ time.

A surge of anger rippled through Gaius as he reviewed Merlin’s injuries. Anger at Arthur, yes, for not trusting his friend. But he could also understand Arthur’s anger; it was an anger spurred by grief and sorrow. He recognized that. He was angry at himself for lacking the skills to heal Merlin fully. Angry at the guards for watching Merlin gasping for breath and doing nothing. He even held anger for Uther, whose tyrannical hatred of magic had warped his son’s opinion and prevented Merlin from revealing himself on his own terms. Mostly Gaius was angry at the world for taking a boy of such pure heart and forcing him to dance to its maniacal tune. For drowning a kind-hearted soul in an impossible destiny. Not for the first time, Gaius wished Merlin could have had an easier road. He was unreservedly proud of Merlin and fully believed in his abilities to complete his destiny, but Gaius still judged that Merlin deserved a quiet life of safety and love. The best he could do, he supposed, was try to make Merlin’s road a little less rocky. Looking down on the boy’s face, which was still set in a grimace of pain, Gaius felt ashamed that he could not do more.


	4. Help Comes

Just as Arthur pulled a new, clean shirt over his torso, there was a quiet knock at his door.

Still wary after the night’s events, Arthur demanded, “who is it?”

“It’s Leon, sire.” Came the quiet reply.

Arthur pulled his shirt straight and called, “enter”.

Leon came into the room with such an expression of grief that Arthur had to turn away from him. He moved to grab his belt from the chair he had draped it on while he changed clothes.

“Sire,” Leon started. “My king –“

“Don’t,” Arthur said tightly, still not looking at him. “I’m not king yet”

Arthur heard the rustle of fabric and the slight jingle of chainmail as Leon moved.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry,” Leon said, more firmly now.

Arthur bowed his head and nodded, unable to trust in his voice just yet.

“Your knights are here for you, sire. Please let us shoulder part of this burden. We’d be glad to do so.”

Arthur felt a warm smile spread over his face. He could still trust his men. They had trained together, fought together, and grieved together. He put his hand on Leon’s steady shoulder. “Thank you, Leon. You can’t possibly know how much that means to me.”

The blond man smiled slightly, though he still looked uncomfortable. He glanced around at the mess Arthur had made in his attempt to get himself changed on his own.

“Sire, you will need a temporary servant for now.” Arthur stiffened as this reminder brought back the memory of betrayal. Leon looked even more unsettled. He shifted from foot to foot, seeming to steel himself. “About Merlin, sire,” he began but Arthur cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“Don’t talk about Merlin to me, Leon,” he said, his voice a sharpened blade.

“I can’t imagine what he’s done but I saw him in the dungeon...” Leon persisted.

“He killed my father, Leon,” Arthur spat fiercely. His eyes blazed in anger and hurt. “He was a sorcerer this whole time, hiding among us. Biding his time until he could strike. My father was weakened, and he took his chance!”

Leon shook his head slowly. “That doesn’t sound like the Merlin I know, sire.”

“Well it is! We’ve all been duped, Leon. Magic is evil and conniving, and my father was right to have it burned from this land.”

Leon looked pained. “Magic saved my life once, sire. I cannot believe it is all evil.”

“Well, Merlin is,” Arthur stately firmly. “And he will remain in the dungeon until I have time to put him on trial.”

Leon looked like he would say more but he stopped himself.

“I’ll make sure a new servant is sent to your rooms, sire. Will you require anything else?”

Arthur sighed heavily. “I know you like Merlin, Leon. We all did. I am more shocked than anyone that he would betray Camelot but I know it was him. He came to my father’s room dressed like an old man, placed a spell on him, and then my father died. I managed to stab him with my sword. Merlin has the exact same injury and had the same red robes lying next to him in Gaius’s room. It was him.” Leon thought the words seemed sure but Arthur’s tone didn’t convince him. Arthur sounded like a man trying to convince himself of something he did not believe. From years of serving Uther, Leon had adopted an obliging style and so he did not press the issue.

“Yes sire,” he intoned and turned for the door.

“There is one thing,” Arthur began.

Looking back, Leon replied, “Anything, sire”

“Can you find Gwen and let her know about my father and... and the perpetrator?” Arthur looked at him beseechingly. Occasionally, Leon was struck with how much Arthur resembled his mother. Ygraine had had such kind, soulful eyes which her son often shared. It made Leon realize with a jolt just how young Arthur truly was. He was glad, in that moment, that he had survived long enough to serve the prince in his hour of need. “Of course, sire,” he replied. Smiling inwardly, Leon left the room.

\---

Gaius was awakened by a voice calling to him from outside the bars of his cell. He was surprised to realize that this meant that he had fallen asleep with his back against the wall and Merlin’s head pillowed by his lap. Looking down on the boy’s still face, Gaius could see that Merlin was still unconscious. His breath, however, was reassuringly even and relatively deep given that he still had some fluid in his lungs.

His duty to his patient finished, Gaius peered out of the cell to determine the source of the voice that had roused him. He was surprised to see Percival hulking there with an armload of goods.

“Percival,” Gaius whispered, hoping to keep Merlin asleep. “What are you doing here?”

“Leon said you were down here and that Merlin was hurt so I brought some things for him,” Percival answered quietly. Gaius was touched by the big man’s kindness. He also marveled that this was the most he had heard Percival ever say in one sitting.

Percival came to the bars and passed blankets and bandages through. Then, with an adeptness that would rival a street illusionist, he pulled a bowl of broth and an entire bread loaf from the pile. He grinned with pleasure at Gaius’s surprise.

“Oh, Percival!” He exclaimed softly. “This is wonderful!” Moving as smoothly as his old bones would allow, Gaius moved Merlin’s head from his lap and laid it gently on the ground. Merlin groaned softly in his sleep but did not stir. Gaius moved to gather up the treasures Percival had brought. “Did Leon tell you why Merlin is in here?” he asked Percival.

Percival’s face fell into a sad frown. “He said that Arthur believes that Merlin is a sorcerer and that he killed Uther.”

“You don’t believe that?” Gaius asked, though he feared what the answer might be. Had Percival only brought these things because he knew Merlin was not long for the world? Was he paying Merlin back for a past kindness?

“No,” Percival answered with a shrug.

“You are a man of few words, Percival, but the ones you share are more than enough. Thank you for your kindness. I know Merlin will be glad to know that others believe him.”

“Merlin would do the same for me,” Percival responded. “Sorcerer or not, he is kind.”

Gaius smiled down at his ward. “He is that, yes.”

“Do you need anything else? To help him.”

Gaius thought for a moment. He knew that Merlin stood a very high risk of infection despite his magical intervention. He also knew that his bottles and cures were in shambles across his chamber floor. He couldn’t be sure what had survived.

“Would you be able to go to the kitchen and see if Sara has some spare honey I can have? And, in my chamber there is a blue bottle on the third shelf to the right, marked with a “P”. Can you see if you can locate it?” Percival nodded and turned to leave. “Thank you, Percival. I will be sure to let Merlin know of your aid.” Percival merely shrugged and continued on his way. In the quiet that followed his exit, Gaius smiled. Perhaps, with friends such as this, Merlin might yet survive.


	5. The Respite

Merlin was surprised to awaken with a spoonful of beef broth held to his lips. He sucked it in gratefully, the heavenly saltiness filling his mouth and warming his throat. Though his lips were swollen and bumped painfully against the spoon he urged Gaius to feed him faster.

“Easy, my boy. You mustn’t eat too quickly. You’ll make yourself sick.” This was advice Merlin had heard and given numerous times to their patients but, when the tables were turned, he struggled to heed his own advice.

Gaius pressed a water skin to Merlin’s lips next and Merlin drained this as well. After, he looked up at Gaius with worry in his expression, “what about you?” he asked. His voice was raspy and barely louder than a whisper.

“Don’t worry about me, Merlin. The guards will bring me more water if I require it. Besides, you lost a lot of blood. Your body needs fluids.”

Merlin nodded jerkily and laid his head back. The effort of eating had already drained his strength. He was surprised to feel a soft bundle cushioning his skull from the hard stone floor. He looked down to see another thick blanket covering his body. He must have looked confused because Gaius replied, “Percival brought you blankets and the broth. There is also bread if you are able to manage it.”

Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise. He liked Percival but he had not realized that the big man was capable of defying Arthur on Merlin’s behalf. His esteem for the knight rose.

Gaius offered him a bit of bread but his mouth hurt too much to manage it. He was pretty sure he had a few loose teeth and there was an empty socket where a molar used to be on the left side of his jaw. In fact, the entire left side of his face was a throbbing pain. His eye on that side was swollen shut and he could only open his right eye a sliver. He closed them both now as the effort to keep them ajar was just too much. He didn’t want to think about his nose. Every time he did, he got a queasy feeling in his elbows and knees.

As though reading his thoughts, Gaius murmured quietly, “I’m going to need to set your nose, Merlin.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in several breaths. He stiffened his whole body and laid his hands on the cold, hard ground to steady himself. After a moment, he nodded swiftly. With a practiced hand, Gaius grasped the base of Merlin’s nose and pulled while his other hand gripped the boy’s chin gently but firmly. There was a crackling sound of scraping cartilage but Merlin did not hear it over the roar of his pain-filled scream. Exhausting the air in his tormented lungs, he whimpered pitifully. Then could not stop the sobs from rolling over him in waves. Gaius patted him comfortingly but there was not much he could do to ease Merlin’s anguish.

They continued in their uneasy, quiet cell for several days. They had meals delivered to them regularly each morning and evening, making it easy to judge the days. Though the fare was simple, it was good and filling. The guards also provided water regularly. They wanted for little besides comfort. Especially since, on the next day, Percival had returned bearing another bowl of broth, bread, honey and the requested blue vial. In his typical way, he had said little, merely questioning if Gaius required anything else and assuring them that he would return as soon as he could.

Merlin did little except sleep and eat what was offered to him. By the third day, the swelling had gone down around his eyes so he could see through them both. His bruises had become livid as blood had settled in the delicate skin under his eyes. Most of his face was a tapestry of bruised flesh spanning the spectrum of red, blue, yellow and purple. Unsurprisingly, he had also developed a fever. His skin burned to the touch and chills rattle through him in waves. Worryingly, Gaius could hear rattling in his lungs as he breathed. He feared that Merlin was developing pneumonia. It made sense given what his lungs had gone through but Gaius still hoped it would clear soon.

Later that day, they were surprised by a familiar face. Gwen came to the bars of their cell with a worried expression. Her eyes went wide when she saw the damage to Merlin’s face. Merlin, who was leaning uncomfortably against the back wall of the cell, made to stand up.

“No, no, please don’t get up, Merlin,” Gwen said and waved her hands at him. Merlin stayed sitting gratefully. After lying or sitting for the three days, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand without help. “I came as soon as I heard. I’ve been asking everyone where you’d gone. Arthur just looked angry when I pressed and wouldn’t talk to me. I finally got it out of Percival.” Gwen’s eyes were round and full of sadness. “Oh, Merlin! I’m so sorry.”

Merlin nodded, his lips pulled tight into a straight line. He looked down, unable to hold Gwen’s gaze. “Did they…” he started. Then he coughed shallowly. “Did they,” he started again, “tell you what happened?”

Gwen nodded and her eyebrows came together in sympathy. “Percival said that Arthur thinks you killed Uther with magic. He said Arthur…hit you and sent you here.”

Merlin breathed out in one long puff. He needed to ask her the next question but he was having trouble getting the words out. If he asked the question, and he got the answer he feared, he didn’t know what to do. Thinking of Percival’s reaction to the ordeal, Merlin finally blurted out, “Do you think I killed Uther?”

Gwen shook her head violently, her dark curls whipping back and forth across her cheeks. “Of course not, Merlin. You wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Merlin allowed a small smile. “What about the, uh, magic?” He asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

“Do you have magic, Merlin?” Gwen asked bluntly. Merlin looked into her eyes and saw only love and acceptance there. He nodded once. “What really happened?” she asked, her head cocked to one side and her shoulders rolled forward.

Merlin’s gaze fell away from her face again. “I tried to heal Uther with a spell. I don’t know what happened. It didn’t work and then…and then.” He couldn’t finish. Tears of shame spilled over his cheeks and a shaky sob escaped his throat.

Gwen nodded sadly. “I know you tried your best, Merlin. I don’t know if this has something to do with it but I found this around Uther’s neck as I was preparing him.” She reached in the folds of her dress and withdrew a pendant on a chain.

Gaius stood and reached his hand out to examine the pendant. “May I see that?” He asked politely. Gwen placed it in his hand. Gaius pulled the item towards him and peered at it. “This is a magical amulet, of that I’m certain. I believe it is designed to reverse spells. In this case, it would appear that this was designed to reverse your healing spell, Merlin.”

“But who would have put that on Uther?” Gwen asked. They all looked at one another. Then at once they answered, “Morgana.”

Now, Merlin stood. His face scrunched in pain, he used the cell bars to pull himself unsteadily to his feet. “I have to get out of here,” he said resolutely. “Arthur is in danger.”

Gaius put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Merlin, there’s nothing you can do, my boy. Maybe Gwen can warn him of the danger?” Gwen nodded swiftly. “Let him know about the amulet. Say you’ve seen the charm used by superstitious housewives to dispel evil. Maybe try to convince him to see Merlin?” Gwen nodded again.

“I will try,” she said. “I have been trying to convince him to speak with you, Merlin, but you know how stubborn he can be.” She could not keep the affectionate smile from the corner of her lips.

Merlin nodded and bowed his head in defeat. Even though he knew he could blow the cell door off the hinges with just a thought, Gaius was right. Storming his way out of the dungeon would get them both killed.

He put his hand over Gwen’s on the cell bar. “Thank you, Gwen,” he said and squeezed her hand. Gwen put her other hand over his and gave him a tearful smile.

“Is there anything I can bring you? Gaius? I know my way around your chambers better than Percival, you know.”

“Yes, that is true, thank you, Gwen. I could use some more honey, willow bark, and coneflowers. Do you think you can find that?”

“Honey, willow bark, and coneflowers? Yes, I think I can find that. If not, I’m sure I can find some close by.” She eyed up Merlin’s exposed chest. Blood had soaked through the front of the bandages. “I’ll bring you some bandages as well. And a shirt.”

“Thank you, Gwen. Your kindness gives me hope,” Merlin said, gratefully.

Gwen cast him a smile that lit her eyes, then she was gone.

Merlin sat back against the wall again and marveled at the turn of events. He never would have believed his revelation would be taken so well. Now, if only he could convince Arthur to believe him…


	6. Questioning

The following morning, Gaius and Merlin were rudely awakened by the sound of their cell door being banged open. Then a brusque voice yelled, “on your feet, prisoner!”

Merlin peeled his eyes open slowly. Despite the herbal remedies that Gwen had provided the night prior, he could tell that his fever was growing worse. His lungs felt heavy. They weighed him down and made him want to roll over and continue sleeping.

He felt a toe prod him painfully in the ribs and realized with a jolt that he had, in fact, fallen back asleep. That wasn’t good.

“Hurry up!” The guard intoned. He grabbed Merlin’s arm and pulled him up gruffly. Merlin roared in pain as the movement ripped his freshly closed stab wounds back open. Startled, the guard released his arm and Merlin crashed onto his hands and knees. Screaming had led to a coughing fit and Merlin hacked excruciatingly for several long seconds. He spit yellow mucus onto the floor. Definitely not good.

The guard placed his hands under Merlin’s arms and, much more gently, lifted him onto his feet. When it was clear that there was no way Merlin would be able to walk alone, the guard allowed him to lean on his arm.

Gaius stood to follow Merlin from the cell but the guard put his hand up to stop him. Gaius protested, “he’s gravely wounded, as you can see. He may need medical attention.”

“The king was very clear. Just Merlin was to come. He only wants to deal with one sorcerer at a time,” the guard said as he maneuvered manacles around Merlin’s wrists. Merlin felt a stab of unexpected pain at that word, “king”. So Arthur had been crowned. A well of pride briefly replaced the tightness in his chest, followed immediately by a profound loss that he had not been there to see. All the pain and sacrifice to get Arthur there and Merlin had missed it.

His thoughts were interrupted by Gaius calling out to him, “Merlin, be careful!” The old man’s face was awash with worry.

Merlin nodded and allowed himself to be led away. The trek to the throne room was nearly unbearable. By the time the guard pushed the large wooden door open, Merlin’s head drooped in exhaustion. His breath rattled audibly as he pulled in each labored breath and he likely would not be standing at all if the guard was not holding him up. Once he was a few yards from the throne, the guard pushed him to his knees. Merlin sagged down willingly. He was having trouble keeping on his feet anyways.

For a few minutes, the room was silent except for the rasping and coughing coming from Merlin’s lungs. When the king had still not made a sound, Merlin looked up through the sweat matted strands of hair hanging over his forehead.

He scanned the faces of the guards who moved to surround him now that he was kneeling before the king. He was dismayed to realize that none of these knights were friends. It seemed that Arthur had purposely chosen all the remaining guards who had favored Uther. To make matters worse, there, at Arthur’s right side, was Agravaine with a triumphant smirk on his face.

On the throne, Arthur sat perfectly still, his hands clasping the arms of the ornately carved chair. Merlin could see the muscles in Arthur’s jaw tensing in a staccato rhythm. The tendons on the backs of his hands stood out in sharp relief against his tan skin as he gripped the arm rests tightly. He was resplendent in gleaming chainmail and a finely woven red shirt and pants. A crown of gold glinted magnificently against his blond curls. Despite his regal pose, anger and something else flitted across Arthur’s gaze. Merlin knew Arthur well but he was surprised to recognize the emotion as guilt.

“Arthur,” Merlin began but stopped when Arthur’s mouth went flat and still. “Sire,” Merlin continued. “I’m so sorry.” Tears fell from Merlin’s eyes as his guilt and sorrow flooded within him once more.

“Don’t,” Arthur spat the word. “Do you think your apology means anything to me?” Arthur’s voice boomed, his words clipped.

Merlin lowered his head, tears dripping to form a sodden spot on the rich carpet.

“I know you don’t believe me but I was really just trying to help. I never meant for Uther to die.”

“But he did. By your hand,” Arthur’s voice was ferocious.

“Not by my hand,” Merlin’s anger was rising as well. It mixed with his fear and pain to bring a heat in his chest that was more frenetic than the warmth from his fever. He found that he could not keep his hands from shaking as he stated, “I performed a healing spell on him. The pendant reversed the spell. You should be trying to find out how Morgana got the pendant on Uther.” His eyes flicked momentarily to Agravaine, whose eyes furrowed in response.

“Why should I believe you?” Arthur demanded. “You’ve been lying to me for as long as I’ve known you!”

At this, Merlin’s anger deflated. He looked back to his king. “Arthur, look what you did as soon as you knew,” he said quietly. He used his manacled hands to point at the damage to his nose and jaw. “Look at my face and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if I had told you earlier.” It was Arthur’s turn to look away. “I’ve _hated_ lying to you. Having to keep my magic hidden from you is my deepest shame. But if I told you, you would have had to decide whether to give me up to your father or to lie to him. I couldn’t make you choose.” His voice choked out at the last word.

“You could have just stopped using magic!” Arthur roared, losing his stately appearance and leaning forward in his chair.

“I’ve had magic since I was born,” Merlin fired back. Leaning towards the throne, a red flush darkening the bruises on his cheeks. He caught sight of the guards tightening their grip on their weapons and relaxed his stance. “My mother told me I would send toys circling the cottage when I wasn’t yet a year old. I can’t stop using magic any more than you can stop breathing.” At Arthur’s confused expression, Merlin continued. “Besides I’ve used my magic to save you and Camelot more than I can count.”

“So that’s what the old man- that’s what you meant?” Arthur demanded. “Name a time when you saved me or Camelot. I would have known.”

At this, Merlin rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly. “Sure, clotpole. Cause you’re so observant.”

One of the guards stepped forward angrily, jabbing his spear beneath Merlin’s jaw painfully. Merlin sobered instantly. He had almost forgotten that he was on trial here.

Arthur watched Merlin squirm but did not wave the guard off. Instead, he leaned forward expectantly.

Merlin leaned away from the guard but, when the man did not back off, he said, “When I first came to Camelot, I recognized Lady Helen’s enchantment and covered my ears. When she attacked you, I used my magic to sever the chandelier’s chain so it would fall on her.”

“That’s when you first came here. How do I know that you didn’t do that to get close to me?”

Merlin nearly rolled his eyes again but the spear cutting into his neck reminded him to stay serious. “When Morgause attacked Camelot with the army of the dead, I stopped Morgana in the crypt and destroyed the staff to stop the undead. Only someone with magic could have severed the staff’s link”

“But Morgana,” Arthur started and then continued in a whisper. “She said she destroyed the army.”

“She turned against Camelot far earlier than you all thought,” Merlin said simply.

“You knew! That’s yet another thing you lied about!”

At this Merlin glared at Arthur. “Would you have believed me? Would Uther?”

“You could have tried!”

“The last time I tried to convince Uther that someone betrayed him, he made me drink poison. Do you remember that?” Merlin said sharply, clipping his words and scowling at Arthur. “Everything I’ve done was for you, you ungrateful prat! All the pain and sacrifice and you treated me like garbage. But I didn’t care because I knew you would be the king to correct Uther’s mistakes.” This time another guard struck him, a sharp backhand across his right cheek. Merlin was entirely unprepared for it and sprawled gracelessly onto his side.

“Do not speak ill of Uther Pendragon, you murderer!” the guard snapped, and his sword joined the spear angled toward Merlin’s throat.

“Enough,” Arthur said and waved the guards away from Merlin. “Take him back to his cell. I have heard enough for today.”

As the guards lifted him again, Merlin twisted in their grip to shout back at Arthur, “beware of Agravaine, Arthur! I believe he is in league with –“ but he never finished his warning as a guard slammed his sword hilt into the back of his head, sending him into unconsciousness.


	7. Taken

Arthur watched them drag Merlin’s limp body from the room with mixed emotions. Part of him was still very angry but a larger part felt sympathy for his servant. Merlin’s face had been covered with bruises to the point where only his azure eyes were recognizable. Though Merlin had been given a shirt to cover the bandages on his chest, Arthur had glimpsed a spreading spot of darker red on the crimson cloth. The trembling in Merlin’s limbs was the most alarming. He hadn’t even seemed aware of it. Arthur had been responsible for it all.

Agravaine’s voice woke him from these musings, “you should have the boy executed tomorrow. Camelot needs to see your strength,” he said.

“Why did he tell me to beware of you, uncle?” Arthur asked him.

“Clearly he was trying to turn you away from trustworthy advisors, my lord.” When Arthur seemed unconvinced, he continued “he is a sorcerer, sire. You can’t believe anything he says.”

Arthur nodded and Agravaine bowed his way out of the chamber. Despite Agravaine’s reassurances a niggling part of his brain had become skeptical. Leaving the throne room, he decided to see if his suspicions had any basis in fact.

\--- 

Merlin awoke to the sound of Gaius calling his name softly. He opened his eyes slowly and nearly lost his meager breakfast as pain ricocheted within his skull. Breathing delicately, he carefully lifted his head to find Gaius’s voice. He was unhappy to see Gaius behind the bars of a different cell.

Gaius was not looking at him. He was imploring someone else who Merlin could not see from his angle. Merlin could not, at first, understand what Gaius was saying. Then he felt arms grabbing him again and dragging him out of the cell.

“Where are you taking him?” Was what Gaius had been asking.

As he was roughly pulled past the cells, Merlin’s concussed skull couldn’t handle the treatment and he really did lose his breakfast.

“Ugh,” came a disgusted voice. “Just pick him up! We need to get out of here before Arthur comes snooping.”

Merlin’s chest went cold. Agravaine was taking him from the castle. Whatever Agravaine’s reasons, Merlin knew they did not bode well for him.

Merlin struggled weakly. “Where are you taking me?” he demanded in a slurred voice.

“You escaped using magic and joined Morgana, of course,” Agravaine said smoothly. As Merlin turned to send him flying magically through the air, Agravaine put up a finger in warning. “Tut, tut. I wouldn’t try any magic if I were you. You see, Gaius can either help you escape and survive or die in the process. It’s up to you.”

Merlin froze, allowing the guards to lift him once more. He struggled to maintain consciousness, planning to blast them all as soon as they were far enough from Gaius. One of the guards slung him roughly over his shoulder. As his world spun upside down, Merlin lost his feeble grip on awareness again.

\---

As Arthur made his way down to the dungeons he heard panicked yelling. Coming to the bottom of the stairs, he saw only Gaius, who was hollering for the guards.

“Arthur!” Gaius called, once the prince came into view. “They’ve taken Merlin!”

Arthur ran the last few feet to the bars of the cell. “What? What happened to Merlin?”

Gaius looked bereft. “Agravaine took him. He planned to convince you that Merlin had escaped to join Morgana.”

Though most of Arthur believed Gaius, after all, he was like a second father to him, Arthur needed to be sure. “How do I know you’re not plotting with Merlin to get me alone?”

An angry fire shone in Gaius’s eyes. “Arthur, if you believe that, than you’re far stupider than anyone could suppose. I helped raise you. I could have taken you out decades ago if that were my plan!”

“Of course, Gaius, but I wanted to be sure,” Arthur responded, abashed.

“Go and save Merlin, Arthur! Quickly!” Gaius pointed him towards where Agravaine had taken Merlin.

Arthur took off running. He could be surprisingly quiet in his chainmail when he wanted to be. Rounding a bend, he saw three horses galloping out of the gates. In the darkness, he could still make out Agravaine, two guards and a limp body draped in front of one of them. Running to the stables, he demanded the groom saddle his charger as swiftly as possible. It was mere minutes later but, to Arthur, it felt like hours before he could swing into the saddle and run after the fleeing group.

He saw them in the distance but could not overtake them on the road. They headed into the forest and Arthur followed. He watched them stop at a small, run-down cottage and veered off the road and behind some overgrown bushes. One of the guards pulled Merlin from the horse’s back and dragged him through the hut’s little door. Agravaine entered last, casting a glance around the trees on either side. Satisfied that they were alone, he pulled the door shut behind him.

Arthur dismounted quietly and draped his horse’s reins over a low lying branch. Grasping his sword handle to prevent any undue noise, he snuck towards the hovel. Going around the back-side of the hut, he found a small window with enough of a crack for him to peer in. He watched the guard drop Merlin onto a narrow mattress lying on the floor. Merlin’s limbs sprawled awkwardly off the sides of the bed but Merlin did not rouse. The utter stillness of his pale face was distressing and Arthur started to move toward the door.

Just then, Morgana walked into his field of vision and Arthur froze. Curiosity compelled him to watch just a little longer.

Though he could barely hear from his vantage point, Arthur could make out most of the words as Morgana said, “Why have you brought him here, Agravaine?”

“He is a sorcerer, my lady.” Arthur saw Morgana’s eyes shift suddenly to gaze on Merlin.

“What? How?!”

“Arthur asked the old sorcerer to heal Uther. When he failed, he stabbed the man. Turns out, it was Merlin the whole time.”

Arthur saw Morgana’s furious eyes turn to Agravaine.

“He’s been a sorcerer this whole time?!” She demanded.

“It appears so, my lady.”

Furious, Morgana grabbed a pail of water from beside the fireplace and threw it on Merlin’s sleeping form. He came awake with a surprised shout and sputtering gasps. He fell back on the mattress in obvious pain, his arms hugging his chest tightly.

It seemed to take him a few minutes to orient himself. When his eyes finally fell on Morgana, they narrowed ferociously. “Morgana,” he said icily. The wrathful effect was slightly ruined by the way Merlin’s head wobbled unstably.

“Come, come,” Morgana replied, all charm and elegance unexpectedly. “That is no way to speak to your sister in magic,” she said sweetly. Merlin pulled himself onto his elbows and scooted away from her, but could only put a few feet between them before he came to the wall. He was cornered. He continued to glare at her with a surprising amount of menace given his state of vulnerability.

“I will never be your brother in any respect, Morgana. You are cruel and spiteful,” he growled at her.

“And you’re not cruel?” She demanded, ire flashed in her voice. “Do you remember poisoning me?” Arthur was surprised to see Merlin cast his eyes downward, ashamed. Morgana was telling the truth. Merlin had poisoned her. What other revelations were there? Morgana continued, “you let me believe that I was all alone. You could have taught me! Instead, you abandoned me!”

“I was right to abandon you! The first thing you did when you learned a little magic was try to take Camelot. You killed innocent people, Morgana!” Arthur was surprised by the force in Merlin’s voice at this.

“Innocent people? And I wasn’t innocent?”

“No! You had the chance to convince Uther that magic could be used for good. Of any of us, you could have changed his opinion!”

“So you’re going to what? Try to convince Arthur that magic is good? I very much doubt he’s going to believe that now,” Morgana smirked malevolently. “Magic will not return to Camelot unless I sit on the throne.”

“No!” Merlin roared. “Arthur is a good man. We just have to show him that magic can be used for good!”

“You can’t be that simple-minded, Merlin. Just look what he did to you! As soon as he knew you had magic he punched your face in!”

“You made him think I killed Uther! If not for the pendant, Arthur would have owed magic for the life of his father! Why? Why would you ruin that if bringing magic to Camelot is your goal?” Morgana did not answer. “Because that’s not really why you’re doing this, is it, Morgana? You just want the power and control. You’re just like Uther!” Morgana screamed and motioned for her magic to dash him against the wall. He flung his hand up and just barely stopped the spell. “I will never let you take the throne of Camelot! Not while there is still breath in my lungs, Morgana,” he raised his hands and Arthur saw something savage in Merlin’s expression as his eyes burned golden.

Then, Arthur watched in horror as Merlin grabbed his throat, the gold in his eyes sputtering out.

“I can make that very soon, Merlin,” Morgana cackled, squeezing her fist tightly. Wasting no more time, Arthur sprang for the door.


	8. All is Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of BAMF Merlin in this installment. Enjoy!  
> <><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Merlin experienced for the third time in as many days the terrifying sensation of oxygen deprivation. He clawed at his throat while he eyes spun wildly around the room looking for salvation. There was no way he could have ever expected Arthur to burst through the door. Morgana was just as startled, releasing the spell from Merlin’s airway in her surprise.

The next few moments were a blur as Merlin struggled to bring air back into his lungs. He struggled to stop coughing as his lungs clenched in protest.

The sight of Arthur crashing into a series of shelving brought Merlin to full, angry alertness. He was on his feet in moments, the air crackling around him.

“You will _not_ harm him,” he yelled, sending a thunderclap of energy through the hut. Morgana, Agravaine and the guards were thrown backwards. Merlin stumbled to Arthur’s side. Arthur was awake and staring at him with shocked, blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked. He pulled at Arthur’s clothing, checking him for injury.

“I’m fine,” he said, brushing Merlin away. “That was – Merlin look out!” He pointed behind Merlin.

Merlin turned quickly, but he was too slow for Morgana. Of course, she hadn’t been beaten or stabbed that week so she was certainly at an advantage compared to Merlin. Ropes flew through the air, ensnaring him. One wrapped around his mouth, effectively gagging him. Merlin fell to the ground in a painful heap. He struggled against the bindings but they merely became tighter as he fought them. Barely able to breathe through the swollen passageways of his broken nose and feeling the ropes constricting tighter on his already sore chest, Merlin fell still. He tried using instinctual magic against the ropes but they wouldn’t budge. Unpleasant memories of the time Morgause had chained him in the forest with serkets flitted across his mind. Morgana must have learned the spell from her sister. He felt helpless and weak. Arthur would die by Morgana’s hand. His hope for a united Albion was receding as silky black oblivion threatened to sweep him under.

\---

Arthur watched Merlin fall still in horror. As Merlin’s panicked eyes were rolling back into his head, Arthur turned to face Morgana. Intent on watching Merlin suffer, she had not yet noticed Arthur gaining his feet.

In two large strides, he was upon her, his sword thrust forward and buried into her chest. Her eyes widened in surprise, an expression that reminded Arthur of the girl she once had been. Then she spat, “you fool! No mortal blade can kill me!”

Arthur yanked the sword from her chest and turned it expertly to a swinging blow, but Morgana recovered faster than he expected. Screaming in pain-filled rage she shoved him with her magic. He crashed over the meager table in the center of the room and fell to the floor with a pained exhalation of breath. Morgana began to chant in the ancient language of magic, her hands dancing through the air in sweeping motions. Then suddenly the hair began to stand on the top of her head. She ceased chanting and looked wildly around the room. Her eyes met Merlin’s golden ones as an arc of pure electricity angled through the still open door and connected with her outstretched hand. It enveloped her in a crackling heat and then vanished. Morgana fell to her knees, screaming in anguish. Arthur saw that her arms and back were burned where her clothes had melted away. Morgana cast a furious glance between Arthur and Merlin and then fled, stumbling through the door. Arthur heard galloping hoof beats gradually receding from earshot and hoped that was the last he would see of her, though he doubted he would be so lucky.

Panting in pain from where he had struck the shelving and floor, Arthur pulled his aching body upright and turned to where Merlin lay, still bound in ropes.

Agravaine stood next to Merlin, a knife bared against the boy’s throat. “Let me go, Arthur and I’ll let him live.”

Arthur shifted to bring his sword up and Agravaine’s blade drew another line of blood on Merlin’s neck. “Uh, uh, uh,” he hissed. “We wouldn’t want Merlin to survive this long only to die of a slit throat now would we?” Arthur lowered his sword blade and stepped back.

Arthur saw Merlin’s eyes open and seek his. Through the fear Arthur saw etched in his servant’s stare was a request marked by a very subtle raising of the eyebrow. Arthur dropped his eyes in a slight gesture of assent.

Merlin’s eyes turned a sizzling shade of gold and Agravaine flew away from him, striking his head savagely against the wall. By the angle of his neck, it did not appear to Arthur as though his uncle would rise. Arthur couldn't find it within him to care.

Arthur rushed to Merlin’s side. Using Agravaine’s knife, he sliced through the ropes gagging Merlin before working on the rest. Merlin sucked in a grateful breath. While Merlin composed himself, Arthur used the rope to tie up the still unconscious guards. Then he returned to help Merlin to his feet.

“You meant all that stuff, didn’t you?” Arthur asked levelly.

Merlin stood a little straighter and looked Arthur directly in the eye. “Every word.”

The intensity in his servant’s eyes was overwhelming and Arthur dropped his gaze.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your loyalty, Merlin, but I am grateful.” Merlin smiled slightly. He moved to walk out of the cottage but his knees buckled beneath him. Arthur thanked the thousands of hours of training that allowed him to catch his servant before Merlin’s head hit the floor again.

Merlin finally succumbed to the fear and shock his body had held at bay while he fought Morgana. He fell limp in Arthur’s grasp and allowed Arthur to scoop him up without protest. Arthur was astonished by the heat emanating from Merlin’s thin frame. He felt a surge of pride that Merlin had faced down Morgana and Agravaine in his current state. Then an equal swelling of shame that these injuries were his doing.

Arthur must have shown a semblance of his feelings in his expression because Merlin shook his head and said, “Don’t. I’m just happy you believed me. In the end.” His voice was breathy and sounded somewhere beyond exhausted. His eyes fluttered drunkenly as he fought to remain conscious.

Arthur gritted his teeth and carried him to his horse, which was still tied to the tree outside. “Not the end yet, Merlin,” he said shortly.

As Arthur hoisted him bodily onto the back of the horse just over the withers, Merlin looked at him penetratingly. “Arthur,” he said, forcing the king to look him in the eye. “Promise me one thing.”

“Merlin, you’re not going to die,” Arthur responded brusquely. Merlin grabbed his hand, halting him from swinging up into the saddle behind him.

“Promise me that you will consider ending the ban on magic,” he whispered fiercely.

“I will, Merlin,” he responded with a slight hitch in his voice. Then more firmly, “and you will get the chance to show me all your magical tricks.” He pulled himself into the saddle behind Merlin and settled him securely against his chest.

Merlin nodded faintly. Merlin’s position in front of the saddle, with Arthur’s chainmail cold and rough on his back, was probably not comfortable but Arthur caught a brief smile flitting across Merlin’s bruised lips. Then his eyes sagged closed and his body slumped against Arthur’s chest.

Arthur kicked the charger into a swift gallop. Thankfully, the gelding knew the way back to Camelot and Arthur trusted his prey eyes to find their way in the gloom. His horse was breathing hard, his hide slick with sweat, by the time they reached the city gates. Though the horse’s hooves slid on the cobblestones in the courtyard, Arthur did not let up the pace until he had reached the citadel. He dismounted swiftly, pulling Merlin with him as gently as he could. A groom came out of the stable to grab his lathered charger and Arthur gratefully took off towards Gaius’s chambers. As he was rounding the last flight of stairs, he remembered that Gaius wouldn’t be in his rooms. Arthur still had him locked within the dungeons.

Cursing, he shouted for the guards in a booming voice. He was relieved that Merlin fluttered his eyes open at the noise. That at least meant he was not too far gone. In moments, he was rewarded by the clanking of armored, booted feet storming up the stairwell.

“Go to the dungeon and bring Gaius to his chambers immediately!” He called to them. If they thought this was a weird request, the guards made no sign of it. They turned and stomped back down the stairs.

Arthur fairly flew up the stairs and threw open the door. Another pang of guilt stabbed him in the chest at the sight of the physician’s chambers. The cot was overturned with all kinds of herbs and medicine mixing with Merlin’s dried blood on the floor. Books and scrolls were shuffled across the table and shelving in disarray. Arthur had to place Merlin on the ground, being careful not to lay him on any broken glass, and set the cot to rights before he could get Merlin settled in.

Merlin eyes were closed once again but Arthur could see his eyes dancing skittishly beneath the lids. Tremors pulsed through Merlin’s limbs and his teeth chattered. Trying to make himself feel more useful while he awaited Gaius’s arrival, Arthur went to Merlin’s room and pulled the meager blankets from his bed. He piled these and the ones from Gaius’s bed onto Merlin’s shivering frame. Then he moved to the fireplace and began to stack logs in it haphazardly. Trying to remember how Merlin did this while they were on hunts, he used flint and steel to generate some sparks.

Just then, Gaius came through the door, worry and fear apparent on his wrinkled face. He breathed hard from his run up the stairs but this did not stop him from snapping at Arthur, “hurry up with that fire!”

Arthur rolled his eyes and resumed his attempts. On what felt like the twentieth try, Arthur got a flame to take hold on the little bit of lint and kindling beneath the logs. Soon, he had a sizable fire going. Looking down on it proudly, he nearly forgot why he was there.

“Arthur! I need boiling water and those bandages. Hurry up!” Gaius always seemed to forget the ranks of the kingdom when he was working, but Arthur didn’t mind. This was one situation when he liked being bossed around. He pulled the kettle over so that it hung just above the flames. Then he grabbed the bandages from where Gaius had pointed and brought them over to the physician.

Gaius pulled the shirt from Merlin’s back as gently as he could. Arthur helped by propping Merlin up and taking the shirt from Gaius as he moved to remove the old bandages from around Merlin’s chest. Arthur could see a large wet patch of blood on both sides of the bandages. Arthur’s stomach dropped. He had seen many a man bleed to death from injuries sustained in battle. Given the amount of dried blood beneath the cot already and the blood soaked bandages Gaius removed, Merlin was in trouble. Once he could see the skin on Merlin’s chest, Arthur realized how pale the boy really was. He was the bleached color of raw fish - slightly blue and sick looking. The bruising on his face had masked it.

Arthur pulled away from Merlin. He finally understood the pitiable state in which he had left his friend. Losing blood he didn’t have to give, Merlin was also fighting an infection. Arthur added up all these factors, along with Merlin’s general skinny condition, and his stomach dropped.

Heedless of Arthur’s mental anguish, Gaius had continued to tend to Merlin’s wounds. Using the hot water from the hearth, he had cleaned both sides of Merlin’s wound and had replaced sutures that had torn free during Merlin’s scuffle with Morgana and Agravaine. Now examining the wounds closely he sighed heavily.

“There’s no signs of infection at the wounds themselves. I fear that he’s developed an infection in his lungs,” he said, tiredly. “If that’s the case, there’s nothing more I can do except wait and see if he’s able to clear the infection on his own.”

Arthur stared at a spot just above Merlin’s shoulder. His cheeks felt cold and he realized that – unbeknownst to him - tears had coated his face.

“He’s not going to survive, is he?” Arthur asked forlornly, still staring beyond Merlin’s trembling form.

Gaius let out a slow breath. “He is a lot stronger than you think, sire.”

Arthur turned to look searchingly at Gaius. “Could you heal him? With magic?” He asked directly.

Gaius’s mouth formed a little “o” of surprise and then he clamped it shut. He looked down at Merlin mournfully.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe. But magic is forbidden.”

“What if I, as king, directed you to try to heal him?”

“I mean, I could try, my lord. But there aren’t any guarantees it will work. Healing spells are notoriously tricky,” Gaius responded nervously.

“Do it,” Arthur stated and then added, “please, Gaius. Please just try.”

Gaius nodded. He went to his bench of herbs and pulled out a bundle of sage. He lit the bundle. Then he located a vial from within the robes Merlin had worn to disguise himself as the old man. Arthur marveled that it seemed like a year had passed when it had not even been a week since his father had died.

Gaius dropped a small amount of the liquid into Merlin’s mouth. Then he began to chant while he waved the bundle of sage over Merlin’s prone figure. Gaius’s eyes sparked a deep gold as he drew out the last syllable.

Nothing appeared to change. Merlin remained pale and shaky. His eyes stayed closed.

“Try it again,” Arthur directed.

Gaius complied, saying the words to the spell more clearly and louder this time. Still, nothing changed in Merlin’s condition. Gaius looked at Arthur and his face looked ancient. Grief pulled deep crevices in his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur. That’s all I have.”

Now Arthur wept. His knees hit the ground, the pain a sharp ache that he barely registered. Sobs overtook him in a howling cacophony that scared him in its severity. Distantly, he felt Gaius’s hands grab the shoulders of his tunic and pull him towards his bony chest. They knelt together for many minutes, Arthur cradled in the old physician’s embrace like a child, until Arthur’s cries hitched themselves out. 

Gaius spoke up then, “we mustn’t lose hope, Arthur. Merlin yet lives. As I said, he is far stronger than he seems. He could yet pull through.”

Arthur looked into Gaius’s tear-streaked face. He seemed to Arthur to have aged a decade since yesterday. Though he did not believe it himself, Arthur nodded heavily. Merlin was like a son to the old physician; he deserved the hope of Merlin’s recovery. He stood up rigidly and cast a look at Merlin’s still sleeping form. Merlin appeared just as pale and trembling as he had moments ago and Arthur’s heart sank in his chest.

“I must go and attend to matters of state,” he announced. Having expelled his grief in howling wails, Arthur was now devoid of any emotion. His face was cold and hard. Gaius watched him go and understood. Arthur was a man of action, battles and strategy. He would be eaten up by grief if he stayed and watched Merlin sleep.

“I will send for you if anything changes, my lord,” Gaius said gently. Arthur gazed back at him, his eyes rimmed with red and still wet. He nodded once and left, closing the door softly behind him.


	9. Hope Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I utterly love the character of Freya. She blossoms under Merlin's kindness and allows him to be himself in a way that he can't with any of the other characters. It's a quick romance in the story, but I believe it is a true one and would stick with Merlin long after that episode. I enjoyed bringing a piece of Freya back into this story.  
> <><><><><><><><><><><>

Two days passed like this. Gaius tended Merlin solemnly. He sponged water and broth into Merlin’s throat, stroking his neck muscles to coax them into swallowing. Yet, Merlin’s color remained pale and his skin clung to him tighter where the weight he could not afford to lose dropped off.

Gwen visited in these days, using a soft cloth to bath Merlin’s fevered skin. Arthur came as often as he could, though his father and uncle’s loss had sent the council into a tizzy so he was needed frequently. There had been no word of Morgana and Arthur fervently hoped she was off somewhere far away, licking her wounds.

Quiet Percival visited, bringing along honey and a thickly woven blanket. Leon came, his arms filled with firewood to replenish Gaius’s stock. With Merlin laid up and Gaius feeding the fire constantly, the stack of logs next to the fireplace had grown low. Gaius was appreciative of the gifts and – more so – of the two men’s quick and quiet departures. Practical men both, they had found ways to be of use and then gotten out of Gaius’s way. He could not say the same of Arthur, who came to sit for long hours next to Merlin. He stared intently at Merlin’s chest in a way that Gaius found obtrusive. He supposed that Arthur’s rapt concentration was a constant reminder of how close they were to losing Merlin. The rest of his guests were encouraging; Arthur held vigil.

\---

Through these long days, Merlin swam in a river of fever. He dreamt in snatches of sensation: the feel of Kilgarrah’s scaly skin beneath his fingers, the bright flash of lightning from the sky on the Isle of the Blessed, the ripples in the pool of blood beneath him as more drops fell into it. His dreams were restless and unceasing. He longed for the restorative peace of sleep.

An image of Freya’s smiling lips flashed in his unconsciousness and he seized hold of it. He felt the cool waves of her lake climbing the skin of his legs as he waded into it. Searching the rippling black surface he saw the water dip and lighten as a pale face appeared. She broke through with a cascade of water droplets. Her hair was black and slicked back tight against her head. She looked radiant and otherworldly. Merlin’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of her. Tears slid down his cheeks, falling into the lake. He was not sure if they were from sadness or happiness and he did not care.

“I have missed you,” he said. A delighted grin split his face and his eyes danced with love for her. They were the color of her lake when the sun illuminated the surface. She answered his smile with a brilliant grin of her own.

“I have missed you so much, Merlin. But I have watched you become a great man,” she looked at him with pride. He looked somewhat sheepish, his gaze falling to the waters below him.

“Can I touch you?” he asked hesitantly. She nodded vigorously and he ran to her, grasping her close. He was soon soaked through but he did not care. She felt warm and inviting. She felt like home.

He pulled back to gaze at her, to prove that she was really there in front of him. Then he kissed her, pouring all the longing and grief he had felt at her loss into his embrace. She melted into him, tasting like cool spring water and smelling like the forest floor after a rain storm. They parted slowly, and then gazed at each other, reading the story of their years apart in one another’s eyes.

Then it was Freya’s turn to look down at the water beneath them. “Merlin,” she began but he voice faltered. She looked at him then and he could see sadness creeping into her gaze. “You are not ready to come to me, my love.”

“But I am,” he protested. “I am ready to be with you, Freya.”

She shook her head miserably. “No,” she said. “Your destiny is not yet completed.”

Merlin’s chin swiveled swiftly side to side in denial. “Arthur doesn’t need me,” he insisted. “It would be better if I left him now. He will still bring magic to Camelot.”

Freya leaned forward and planted a small kiss on Merlin’s lips. “You are not destined to just bring magic to Camelot, Merlin. You must guide Arthur to bring together the lands of Albion. You are still needed.”

Merlin shook his head again fiercely. Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked upon the love of his life. He was tired. More tired than he had ever been. He was also sick to death of destiny and all the pain that went with it. “No,” he cried woefully. “No, I want to stay here with you!”

Freya put her hand on his cheek, brushing away his tears gently with her fingertips. “You will have eternity to spend with me. I will wait for you, my love.” And with this she brushed a kiss onto his forehead and began to sink into the water away from him.

“No!” he yelled again and tried to dive under after her. As his face hit the water’s surface, he woke up with a choked cry of “Freya!” He looked around him in bewilderment. His hands still clutched at the edge of his blankets but the rest were kicked over the edge of the cot. From the bottles and assorted books lying on the nearby table, he ascertained that he was in Gaius’s work room.

Then a blurry figure with red clothing and tan skin fell onto him. He struggled momentarily until he recognized the scent of quality soap and chainmail oil.

“Arthur?” He croaked in astonishment. The figure stood and Merlin could see it was Arthur, his face red with embarrassment.

“You’re awake,” Arthur observed.

Merlin looked around, not sure what to say to this obvious statement. “Er, yes?” he rasped. His voice was hoarse and weak from disuse. Arthur turned to find some water to offer him. Merlin guessed this gesture had more to do with giving Arthur’s hands something to do rather than courtesy but he was grateful nonetheless. The water was cool and soothing to his scratchy throat.

He looked around searchingly. “Where is Gaius?” he asked. A knife’s blade of panic caught him in the ribs. Was Agravaine able to make good on his threats? Had Arthur left the physician in the dungeon? But then he felt the scrawny arms of Gaius scoop him up into a hug. Gaius hugged him as fiercely as he dared, being careful not to squeeze Merlin’s wounds too much.

“Oh, my boy,” Gaius breathed into Merlin’s ear. “I feared we would lose you!”

Merlin buried his face into the cloth of Gaius’s robes. “You can’t get rid of me that easily!” He said with a laugh, though it was not mirrored in his eyes. When he pulled away from Gaius, the grin remained, buoyant and cheerful as always. Then he glanced at Arthur and his grin faded.

Arthur fidgeted awkwardly and pointed vaguely toward the door, “well I better be – “ he started to say before Gaius interrupted him.

“Sire, I wonder if you might be able to stay with Merlin for a few minutes? Now that he is awake, I have quite a few errands to catch up on.”

Arthur reddened and shifted from foot to foot. He glanced at Merlin, seemingly in inquiry. Merlin nearly laughed out loud at Arthur’s discomfort but a memory of Arthur’s face the last time they both were in Gaius’s chambers, sobered him. Turning back to Gaius, Arthur nodded.

With one last, encouraging squeeze of Merlin’s shoulder, Gaius left the room. A chasm of silence opened in the room behind him. It seemed neither Arthur nor Merlin could find words.

Finally, Arthur straightened, looked Merlin in the eye and said, “Merlin, I’m sorry.” Merlin looked away from him and shrugged a shoulder limply. Arthur started to soldier on but Merlin raised a hand and he halted.

Merlin looked up to meet Arthur’s gaze. “We are both sorry, Arthur. I lied to you, I have magic and you tried to kill me. Can we just not talk about it? Do you think things can go back to the way they were?” His weary eyes pled with Arthur.

Arthur shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it can’t.”

Merlin bowed his head in a slow, sad nod.

“No, no! You misunderstand me,” Arthur said quickly. “The loyalty you maintained in front of Morgana alone earns you the right to a better place than just changing my sheets and pouring my wine. Add that to your obviously powerful magical ability and I think you’d be wasted as my servant.”

Merlin laughed then, a merry little chuckle of genuine humor that lit his whole face. Arthur smiled to see it.

“So you’re not going to have me executed then?” Merlin asked.

“No, Merlin but I do have to figure out what to do with you.”

“Hmmmm, I’m thinking a promotion and some time off.”

“You only came back from a week off!” Arthur said in mock outrage and Merlin laughed. They had a lot more to figure out but they both were content in the knowledge that they were friends once more. They’d work it out together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of my very first fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed it! I have the next one already in the works. Yes, it involves Merlin... and a lot of whump. Sorry, for those who thought Merlin had it rough in this one. It doesn't get better in the next ;) Gwen will be the hero in that installment, though!


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